


School Bleachers and Soccer Practise

by Peasantaries



Series: these paths, that keep crossing [13]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff and Humor, Jealousy, M/M, Mates, Mutual Pining, Omega Katsuki Yuuri, Pining, Possessive Behavior, Scent Marking, Scenting, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, True Mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 21:00:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13819368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peasantaries/pseuds/Peasantaries
Summary: It's Yuuri's favourite shirt.Well, it used to be, until he lost it a few weeks ago. Yuuri wore it everywhere, he even slept in it some days when he got back from ice-skating practise and was too exhausted to lift his own arms. It's not designer, or even any brand whatsoever, but it's snug and Yuuri likes the way it accentuates the muscles of his arm, stretches tight across Yuuri's growing shoulders.And Viktor is wearing it.Viktor and Yuuri might be a little older, but that doesn't mean they've stopped needing one another.





	School Bleachers and Soccer Practise

**Author's Note:**

> STOP. STOP RIGHT THERE.
> 
> Do I have your attention?? Good, because this is a public announcement to say that this update, this one instalment, does not make Viktor and Yuuri suddenly teenagers for the rest of the series. They are both thirteen in this one, yes, but I will most likely go back to ages six, possibly going older than thirteen as well, ahhhh so many ideas — but I will always let readers know and order the series accordingly so that the younger updates will be early, and the older updates will be later. This update will be part 13 of the series, yet it will probably not stay that way if I go back to them as kids.
> 
> This is an experiment, but I also enjoyed writing this silly little update, and I do realise some might not like them being older than children, but that's alright. I'm not here to try and please everyone, because some people weren't happy with the addition of Yuri and Otabek, and some weren't happy with Yuuri being an Omega and Viktor an Alpha, but alas, life is life, I'm just here to write what I love and hope people love it too.

The bleachers are mostly empty at this time of the day.

It _is_ lunchtime, after all. People should be having _lunch_.

Other than a few students milling about, most likely doing homework or probably hoping to catch a glimpse of soccer practise, the long, stretched out rows of seats are vacant, blue plastic shining bright in the midday sun.

Still, Yuuri manages to find a space at the very back, cast in shadows and out of sunlight. He puts his rucksack down, takes out his lunch – a wrapped-up sandwich, an apple and a carton of juice – and then settles in to watch Viktor.

Viktor joined the soccer team four days ago, and in that time, Yuuri hasn’t seen him _at all_ during lunch. He hasn’t sat with him to eat, hasn’t spoken to him for more than a minute in class. Hasn’t laughed with him over the cafeteria menu or quizzed him on the homework questions.

And it’s really, _really_ annoying.

Viktor even missed their _ice skating_ lesson in order to stay behind for extra practise, and that was the last straw.

Yuuri is here to see what all the _fuss is about,_ if he’s totally frank.

They might not be six years old anymore: they might not need to spend every waking moment together, but they’ve _just_ entered junior high, and sure, Yuuri might still have Phichit and Yuuko and everyone else, but he also needs Viktor.

He _needs_ Viktor, whether Viktor feels the same or not, and he also doesn’t know why Viktor has suddenly decided to try and be a _pro-athlete_ at _soccer_ of _all things_ , it’s just ridiculous if anyone asks Yuuri, which he knows nobody is, but also – _it’s ridiculous._

So Yuuri plops himself down, his butt growing cold only because he’s purposely chosen a stupid seat with no sun to warm it, and crosses his arms over his chest, bottom lip jutting out the way it always does when he’s angry, five or thirteen it doesn’t even matter.

Yuuri has always been bad at concealing emotions, and when it comes to Viktor it seems especially so.

He can never hide anything.

Which is why he’s come here, in secret, to eat his lunch and watch Viktor play, instead of simply confronting him about his disappearances during lunch, and the fact they're _annoying_.

He knows if Viktor knew how much it upset Yuuri, he would simply stop.

He’d be back; an arm slinging around Yuuri’s shoulder the way it does when Viktor teases Yuuri about being those _two inches_ taller, his beam big and bright across his face, stretching each one of his features. He’d be making jokes with everyone at their lunch table and pouring over Yuuri’s maths jotters to make sure they got the same answers.

He knows that it usually only takes a simple request from Yuuri for Viktor to do whatever he wants.

 _Mates_. It’s what they’ve been called, ever since Yuuri can remember. _Before_ Yuuri can even remember. In fact, most of his earliest memories (if not _all_ of his earliest memories) include Viktor in some way. Even when he’s not at the forefront, even if the memory isn’t even about Viktor, he’s always there in the background, that beaming face just in the side of Yuuri’s vision.

It has something to do with their natures, Yuuri thinks. Being an Omega and an Alpha. They still go for check-ups twice a year, and everything is normal, and everything is _fine_ , but Yuuri also still doesn’t really fully understand what it makes him and Viktor.

Closer than friends, maybe? Something _else?_ Yuuri doesn't think he'll ever fully understand it. Maybe there will come a time, when they're both older, and it'll click and they'll say, _ah, that's what it means._ But because all Yuuri has ever known is Viktor, and he thinks all Viktor has ever known is Yuuri, it doesn't seem likely. They'll always be this close, they'll always be the most important person to one another, and he can't see that changing.

Well, Yuuri _didn't_ see it changing, not until Viktor started ditching their lunch table to play _soccer_ and hang out with the _soccer team_ and the cool jock guys who all play _soccer._

Stupid soccer.

Yuuri ignores the squirming, discomfited sensation that likes to twist inside his gut at the thought of it. Maybe he's growing bored of Yuuri and his endless presence.

Maybe he really does want new friends.

 _New friends?_ Viktor had asked, a frown marring his features, furrowing the skin of his forehead as he blinked, then tilted his head.

Yuuri nodded. _Just, don't most people make new friends when they go into junior high? And stop hanging out with the friends they made in primary?_

Viktor mostly looked confused, and a little hurt. _I don't know about most people, but that's not us, Yuuri. That'll never be us._

His expression had hardened then, those sky-blue eyes turning to ice, and Yuuri felt his heart do an odd flip that's often talked about in the movies.

 _Stupid_. Because of course, only a few days later, here Viktor was; going back on their promise that wasn't really a promise, but still. He'd _said_.

Just on time; as soon as Yuuri sits down, the soccer team enters the pitch, spreading out across the field before they're called to stand a line by a whistle and start doing a lap.

Yuuri watches. There's a sudden, sharp spike just below his rib-cage when he recognises Viktor jogging along with the rest, his silver-white hair stark against everyone else's darker hair. Other than a couple noticeable attempts at botched bleaching (that look more yellow than blonde), Viktor is really the only one with light hair amongst them all, and nobody has lighter hair than Viktor's.

He's tied it into some kind of french plait; the woven strands travelling all the way up his head in an elegant line. Yuuri still doesn't know how he does that.

It's shorter than it was last month, before Viktor decided on an impromptu haircut and chopped nearly half the length. It doesn't make a difference to the fan-club of girls that crowd around every lunchtime, though. If Yuuri's really honest, it hardly makes a difference to Viktor _at all;_ he's as handsome as ever, just with shorter hair.

Yuuri huffs, pressing his glasses further up his nose and scratching his head, where his hairband is keeping most of his thick black hair from falling into his eyes. He already has bad enough eyesight as it is, without any additional help. He zips his sports hoodie further up, the neck of the jacket pressed to his throat.

Yuuri glances down at his brown hands; at his long fingers, dry and rough from hitting the ice one too many times. At his knuckles, the spindly bones that shift as Yuuri twiddles his thumbs.

He looks up again, finding Viktor again easily.

Viktor looks graceful as he runs, his long legs stretching out further than most, and he's grinning as he does it. It's not a huge beam, not _Yuuri's_ beam, but a smile nonetheless. His cheeks are wind-whipped and bright red, the skin of his nose even flushed pink.

But he looks happy; _truly_ happy, as if he's enjoying himself. His skin shines as pale as his hair. Viktor has always been fair, despite their harsh Japanese summers. No amount of sun seems to tarnish his flawless face.

A pit opens up in Yuuri's stomach. Viktor might just _enjoy_ soccer.

He might not be playing soccer to get more popular or hang out with the soccer team or get a better GPA or make more girls to fall in love with him.

He's playing soccer ... because he _likes_ it.

From here, Yuuri can see he really likes it. He's having fun, fun without Yuuri. Yuuri isn't vital to how much Viktor enjoys himself, it seems, despite the opposite being true for Yuuri.

 _Well, we don't have to share everything!_ Viktor had told him, that familiar grin warm and welcome after Yuuri had proclaimed he hated raspberry sorbet ice-cream from taking a bite of Viktor's cone.

He had been smiling then as well, but Yuuri had just blinked and gone quiet because ... because he _knows_ they don't have to share everything, it's alright to have different interests and different tastes, but he also didn't need Viktor to say it. He didn't need Viktor to say it so casually, as if it really didn't matter either way.

 _We don't have to share everything._ Yuuri swallows. The pit inside his stomach grows, expands out. Yuuri ignores it.

Alright. Okay. That's fine. If Viktor wants to do this; if he wants to play soccer and spend his lunchtimes here, if he wants to have something separate from Yuuri, his own hobby, his own friends, his own _team_ , something they don't need to _share_ , then that's alright.

They whistle blows again and everyone lines up. Someone shoves at Viktor's shoulders, but it's a gentle push, more friendly than anything. Viktor turns and laughs. His hair is in disarray, some white-silver wisps escaping from his side plait.

Yuuri swallows, and then resolves to stop his spying. He should join Phichit and Yuuko at their lunch table; no doubt they're wondering where he ran off to. If they knew he was stalking his own best friend, they would probably think him mad.

Just as he goes to stand, though, he notices something.

Yuuri probably wouldn't have even noticed it if he hadn't been about to leave.

Yet as the soccer team get into position before kick-off, Viktor travels further up the pitch near the goal post, and its as he settles into a stance that he brings his shirt up over his nose.

Only it's not his jersey with the signature number 4 embossed across the front, or his red and white hoodie that staves off the cold. He's wearing an undershirt, which Yuuri would think more of a hindrance than a help, because surely all those extra layers would make him sweat faster, until Yuuri notices.

It's just a plain t-shirt he's wearing underneath his jersey, yet it's got a red collar. Not any red collar, though; a faded, worn red collar, the rest of the shirt black, threadbare and clearly well-loved.

It's Yuuri's favourite shirt.

Well, it used to be, until he lost it a few weeks ago. Yuuri wore it everywhere, he even _slept_ in it some days when he got back from ice-skating practise and was too exhausted to lift his own arms. It's not designer, or even any brand whatsoever, but it's snug and Yuuri likes the way it accentuates the muscles of his arm, stretches tight across Yuuri's growing shoulders.

And _Viktor_ is wearing it.

Anger flushes through Yuuri, because that's _his_ t-shirt, it's _his_ , _why on earth did Viktor think he could steal it when he's the one that says we don't have to share everything,_ and Yuuri stands up, ready to march right onto that field and confront him, until he sees Viktor rub the collar against his nose with his fingers and let the t-shirt drop, along with a smile, smaller than his others, just a soft thing to grace his features.

A smile Yuuri has never seen before, in all his years of knowing Viktor.

Yuuri pauses.

Is Viktor — is he _sniffing_ the shirt?

That can't be right. Even as Yuuri thinks that, though, the evidence is right in front of him; Viktor is wearing Yuuri's t-shirt under his jersey, and he's just lifted it up to face, despite having no sweat to wipe away.

He brought it up to his nose. He smelt it.

Yuuri's cheeks flush so hard he feels as if the skin begins to boil, emit stream like something _cooked_ , and he stands where he is, frozen on the spot.

Viktor is frowning on the pitch, and he brings the shirt up again. Then he drops it, clearly unsatisfied, glancing around as if he can hear something. As if he's _looking_ for something.

And then his eyes land on Yuuri after ceaseless scanning, and he freezes too.

Yuuri didn't realise how close he had travelled in his fit of fury, because he's at the last row of benches, and he's staring straight at Viktor with only a few metres of grass between them, and Viktor stills, expression confused, until he suddenly floods with colour; his whole head turning into a giant tomato.

And that's when the ball comes flying.

It appears out of nowhere, and Yuuri is just quick enough to see it and see who it's headed for, before he's shouting out, _"VIKTOR!"_

And then the ball smacks Viktor Nikiforov in the side of the head.

 

*

 _"Stupid."_ Yuuri hisses.

Viktor huffs a laugh, only it turns into a wince as the motion makes his head move too fast.

"Don't _move_." Yuuri scolds, pressing the ice pack harder to his head. Viktor hisses, but he endures it.

Yuuri lets up, feeling slightly cruel. He sighs, and an awkward silence falls between them.

"That hurt, idiot." Yuuri states.

They've both long since gotten used to thier shared connection that comes with being 'mates'. It really only includes times of threat or danger; like when Yuuri was being backed into the lockers one day, and Viktor came spitting and kicking onto the scene.

Only it's mostly pointless as well, like when Viktor rushed over to his house, sweat pouring down his face and gasping for breath, when all Yuuri had done was stub his toe quite violently.

Times like this, especially, highlight the pointlessness of being mates.

 _We don't have to share everything._ Yuuri grits his teeth even harder, ignoring the phantom throb in the side of his head.

 _That would be great,_ he thinks, _if we weren't both **forced** to share most things._

"Sorry." Viktor murmurs.

He sounds as if he means it, as well. As if he really feels bad. 

Yuuri is quiet. Questions buzz around his head and settle on his tongue, like, _why are you wearing my t-shirt, why did you smell it,_ but none of them ever make it into the air.

Viktor seems to be able to sense them, though. His cheeks are still stained red. It's obvious Yuuri caught what he was doing. It's obvious Viktor knows.

"What were you doing watching?" Viktor's voice is sudden in the stillness.

Yuuri is silent. He tries to think of a good reply, can't, and then simply settles on, "do you hate it?"

Viktor blinks. He straightens up, looking Yuuri in the eye. The ice pack falls cold onto Yuuri's lap.

"What?" He asks.

"Do you hate it?" Yuuri repeats. "Being mates?"

Nothing happens to Viktor's face, in that moment. Yuuri has always been so good at reading Viktor's expressions, and yet right now, he can't read anything.

"What do you mean?" He asks. His voice is careful, _neutral_.

Yuuri swallows. He takes a deep breath, squares his shoulder. "At first, when you ... joined the soccer team, I thought maybe you were trying to find something I wouldn't like, so you could guarantee that you wouldn't have to share it."

Viktor opens his mouth, but Yuuri holds up a hand.

"I know – I mean, I know _now_ , that you actually enjoy soccer. I could see it when you were practising. But then ... it must get annoying, I suppose." Yuuri shrugs, a jerk of one shoulder, stiff and awkward

Viktor doesn't move.

"Annoying?" He repeats. His voice is stripped of any emotion.

Yuuri picks at his thumbnail. "Yeah, I mean ... you must get annoyed, having to share emotions. Like, when other ... _girls_ , ask ... if you want to do stuff, and you say no, because ... because I think you're worried about what I would feel, or me feeling ... what you would, if you .. dated. Or just ... me hanging _around_ all the time, I guess ... that's why you enjoy soccer so much, it's probably a relief from, like .. spending –"

"What." Viktor states, and then he stands up, so abruptly he nearly topples over. "Yuuri. _What?"_

"Don't stand, idiot –" Yuuri reaches up.

"Is _that_ what this is about?" Viktor shouts.

Yuuri pauses. "What about?"

"Is this why you've been so quiet and –  _weird_ , and closed off – and don't think I can't feel it Yuuri! It's right here!" Viktor hits his chest, so hard it makes a smack. "Okay, it's _here_ , and it's _always_ been here, ever since I was six!" He suddenly looks angry, and Yuuri is dumbstruck.

"Wha ..." He trails off.

"And now you're going to tell me it's _annoying?_ Or that I'm somehow _annoyed_ about it all?" Viktor's voice is growing gradually louder, resonating around the locker room, probably loud enough that people can hear it from outside the corridor.

"I ... I didn't ..” Yuuri tries.

"I never, not _once_ , said this was annoying." Viktor growls, low in his throat. "Not once, not _ever_ , Yuuri. You're my best friend and the most important person in my whole life, okay, so no." He spits. “It's not _annoying_.”

Yuuri can only sit there, frozen stiff. “But.”

Viktor is quiet, waiting, his chest heaving up and down with his sudden outburst.

“But.” Yuuri tries. “You don't spend lunch with us anymore.”

Viktor blinks. “I don't spend _lunch with you?"_ Viktor laughs, sudden realisation dawning. “Yuuri, only because you've been so quiet ever since we started junior high, I just thought you preferred to spend it with Phichit and everyone, and then see me later!”

Yuuri can only stare. Viktor ... thought _Yuuri_ didn't want to spend time with him?

“I do like soccer.” Viktor continues. “It’s lots of fun, and everyone is really nice. But that doesn't mean I suddenly hate spending time with you, or find you _annoying_ , Yuuri! I miss you, like - _all the time_ , but then I figured you just ... didn't.”

Yuuri gapes.

"You know I miss you Yuuri." Viktor states. "I'm the one that always hates it most when we can't see each other."

 _I hate it most,_ Yuuri wants to say _._ _I hate it._

There's quiet, as Yuuri can't think of anything to say.

“I ... so you saw me wearing your shirt, I suppose.” Viktor murmurs.

Yuuri, speechless, simply nods.

Viktor sighs. "I just. I _really_ hate it when I don't smell you once a day, and with ice skating and soccer sometimes we only see each other in _school,_ and I don't get to scent you _at all,_ plus Dr Yakov says that it's so normal, it's totally _not weird_  —”

Viktor cuts off with a soft _'oft'_ when Yuuri barrels straight into him.

Yuuri just collides right into Viktor, wrapping his arms around tight and pushing his face into Viktor's sweaty shoulder, smelling of the wind and grass and ... _Viktor_.

Viktor only takes a second before his arms are coming around Yuuri too, squeezing tight.

Yuuri sighs, as if a missing piece of him has been slotted back into place, and realises suddenly that he wasn't losing Viktor. That he could _never_ lose Viktor; not only in the sense of losing Viktor as a friend, but losing the spot of first place in Viktor's eyes, because it's obvious Viktor feels the same. _They're mates._

Yuuri doesn't really know what that means right now, and he doesn't know if he ever will, but maybe he's beginning to understand.

Maybe Yuuri and Viktor are like those two strands of a DNA molecule that they got taught about in biology; how two separate chains of DNA make up a double helix, and how, no matter how different those strands are, they'll come back together again and again, because their paths are intertwined.

Yuuri sometimes feels as if part of his DNA has to be Viktor's, and part of Viktor's DNA must be Yuuri's, because they embrace as they always have, and fit together like one whole molecule.

 

**Author's Note:**

> AHHHH, hope you enjoyed! I have more plans for them at this age, such as getting a sex ed class in biology about heats and such and Viktor and Yuuri being so embarrassed they nearly pass out, and more drama and growing up, but let me know!
> 
> This instalment was also inspired by some gorgeous [ART](https://twitter.com/emchive/status/965728419014168582) of Yuuri and Viktor as young teens (not inspired by the series, but it inspired me, so please go give it some love)
> 
> I'm also Peasantaries on [Tumblr](https://peasantaries.tumblr.com/), [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/peasantaries), and [ Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/peasantaries/)! Come over and talk to me! I'll never bite <3
> 
> If you want to find ways to support me, you can find them there! (*^▽^*)( ﾉ^ω^)ﾉﾟ


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